


Good Morning, Richie Tozier

by Amuly



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:54:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22825957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: Richie and Eddie live on opposite schedules. But that means Eddie gets the mornings to himself, just the way he likes it, and Richie gets woken up with a kiss every day when Eddie leaves for work. And, some special mornings, a little bit more...
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 39
Kudos: 585





	Good Morning, Richie Tozier

**Author's Note:**

> Based off [this piece of art](https://mari-or.tumblr.com/post/190138670125/when-your-husband-has-an-actual-job-and-gets-up) by [mari-or](https://mari-or.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. I loved it so much I had to write fic about it!

Eddie was a morning person.

You wouldn’t know it, if you tried to talk to him in the mornings. The few times Richie had actually been up as the same time as him, he’d discovered this in the harshest terms. Eddie would bitch and hiss and be the cattiest motherfucker at the breakfast bar if you tried to bother him in the mornings.

But that was just because Eddie _loved_ his mornings that much.

When Eddie had been married—the first time; to Myra, not to Richie—the mornings had been his only time to himself. Myra didn’t work, and she took a cocktail of sleeping pills every evening, so when Eddie awoke in the pre-dawn hours, he was… alone.

And he _cherished_ that.

And although it was different with Richie (which of _course_ it was, it was _so much better_ with Richie, in every imaginable way), he still valued his alone time. He loved Richie—don’t let anyone say any different, he loved Richie more than he thought he could ever love anyone. But he still needed that time to himself. Just to be alone with his thoughts, to relax, to recharge, to just revel in what it was like to be by himself in the world, doing things on his own.

Maybe it came from his now-remembered childhood: some kind of desperate bid for freedom, a need to be out of the influence of his overbearing mother. Or maybe he was just a fucking introvert, or an average human being, who needed to be by himself sometimes, and it didn’t take any army of shrinks to break apart and examine from every angle exactly why Eddie liked some peace and damned quiet once a day. He did live with Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier.

But that was why he cherished his mornings so much.

Richie slept in, of course, since he worked nights so often. Not to mention he had the sleeping habits of a college senior. So Richie went to bed at one, or two, or four am, some nights, and Eddie woke up at six-thirty. He worked out for a half hour, showered, drank his first cup of coffee, shaved, dressed, drank his second cup of coffee, drank a veggie smoothie he’d prepared the night before, and then, before he headed out for his commute with his third cup of coffee, he’d duck back into their bedroom (their!) and give Richie a kiss goodbye.

He’d never done that with Myra. Time with Myra was time spent minimizing how much they saw of each other. Every movement in and out of their apartment in Queens was with the intention of _not_ seeing her, as much as possible. He’d thought, if he’d been pressed about it back then, that it’d been a matter of ease, or efficiency. It’s not that he was _avoiding_ his wife, but if he _did_ see her, he’d have to stop, say hi, have a conversation, get into an argument… the whole nine.

With Richie it was different. Not so different that Eddie didn’t still need the meditative quiet that his mornings offered him. But different in the way that he wanted to see Richie. And Richie knew and understood (after a few mornings that ended with them both screaming at each other…) that Eddie needed that time to himself in the morning. He didn’t cling, or get mad about it, or possessive of Eddie’s time. He understood.

Could relationships be like this? Were _most_ relationships like this? Eddie hadn’t known.

“Morning, Richie,” Eddie murmured. He sat on the bed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Richie’s forehead. Richie stirred, murmuring quietly, morning breath already noticeable. Eddie smiled and smoothed his sleep-sweaty hair back from his forehead (and gently combed it over to the side, instead of straight back, so Richie wouldn’t have to face the unpleasant truth about his receding hairline first thing when he finally woke up).

“Mmmm…” Richie hummed. He fumbled around for a minute, finally landing a hand on Eddie’s knee, in spite of never opening his eyes.

“I’m headed off,” Eddie told him.

“’time izzit?”

“Seven-thirty,” Eddie replied.

Richie’s eyes blinked blurrily awake. His smile was soft and warm, unguarded first thing in the morning like it was. His thumb stroked a rhythm over Eddie’s knee.

“You got time.”

Eddie snorted. “No I don’t. Go back to sleep.”

Richie grinned, hand rubbing at Eddie’s knee more purposefully.

“You got time,” he repeated, more sure of himself now.

“Maybe you’ve got time. I have to go to work.”

Richie moaned softly and stretched, revealing miles of naked skin. He slept in boxer shorts, if he slept in anything at all, leaving Eddie constantly exposed to all that tempting skin and horribly attractive body hair.

Eddie really hated how much he loved Richie’s hairy chest and forearms. Hair was messy and got everywhere and ended up in his mouth when he was just trying to kiss his way down Richie’s chest. But, fuck: he loved it.

Richie lifted his hips slightly, blanket slipping down to his waist. Eddie could see the tenting of his morning wood beneath the covers, just begging for Eddie’s attention. Eddie sighed.

“You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

“I’ll be your asshole, all night long…” Richie murmured, even as he pulled Eddie down into a kiss.

“Your breath stinks,” Eddie told him, but kissed Richie anyways. His hand slipped down Richie’s chest, towards the covers. Richie arched up into him.

“Your breath tastes like toothpaste,” Richie pointed out.

“Shut up and let’s get this over with quick. Some of us have to earn a living.” Eddie’s hand slipped under the covers and squeezed at Richie’s erection through his boxer shorts. Richie hissed and kicked at the covers until they slipped off him.

Eddie grabbed the lube out of Richie’s nightstand drawer and squeezed a generous dollop into his palm. Richie squinted down at him and, realizing what he was doing, helpfully yanked his boxers down to mid-thigh, erection bobbing free.

“Hngk. It’s cold, babe,” Richie whined. “Hurry up.”

“You’re such a needy baby,” Eddie told him, even as he wrapped his hand around Richie’s erection. Richie grunted and lifted his hips, humping up into Eddie’s fist.

“Finger me?”

“No,” Eddie chastised him. He jerked his hand quickly, setting a steady pace. “I’m late for work, this isn’t a drawn-out morning fuck.”

“Fuuuucckkk okay, okay,” Richie hissed. He reached up and grabbed hold of Eddie’s thigh again, rubbing at the muscle through his pants. “It feels good.”

“I know,” Eddie told him.

Richie tilted his head up for a kiss and Eddie bent down without having to be asked. That much he could give Richie, at least. As his hand pumped Richie’s cock they kissed lazily, tongues tangling and sucking, Eddie nipping gently at Richie’s lips because he knew that would get Richie hotter, push him towards the edge sooner. With every nip Richie’s hips jerked, stuttering in their rhythm. He loved that.

Eddie swiped his thumb over the head of Richie’s dick, rolling it in his palm a few times before stroking back down the shaft. Richie whined, lifting his hips, until Eddie returned to rolling the head in his palm. Richie moaned happily.

“I love your hands,” Richie murmured, eyes half-closed.

Eddie smirked. “I know.” He jerked Richie steadily, the _squelch squelch squelch_ of the combo of lube and skin-on-skin loud in their bedroom. “What are you doing today?”

“Got a podcast thing,” Richie mumbled. He was mostly staring down at his dick, watching Eddie stroke it. On occasion his eyes trailed back up Eddie’s arm, to his shoulders, to his chest, to his face. Richie licked his lips. “You’re still dressed.”

“I don’t have time,” Eddie reminded him.

Richie stretched, fucking up into Eddie’s fist. “Really? You’re just going to jerk me off and go?”

“You’ve figured out my super-secret plan,” Eddie replied dryly. “Just the podcast thing?”

Richie’s chest was rising and falling faster as Eddie wound him up more and more. Richie bit his lip, then licked over the sore spot. Eddie leaned down and kissed him better. Richie’s dick leaked precome, adding to the filthy wet mess that was all over Eddie’s hand and Richie’s pubes.

“Yeah…?” Richie finally replied, blinking slowly. “Yeah, I… I think that’s it.”

“Want to get dinner? Somewhere nice?”

“Yeah… _Hnn_ , fuck…” Richie hissed. “Mm, Eddie…”

Eddie adjusted his position, twisting his wrist so he wouldn’t get fucking carpal tunnel before work this morning. Richie’s hand tightened on Eddie’s pants-clad knee.

Without saying a word—or breaking his rhythm—Eddie leaned over to Richie’s nightstand and grabbed a fistful of tissues with his left hand. He dropped the tissues on Richie’s chest. Richie watched him with heavy-lidded eyes, chest rising and fall more rapidly.

“You going to come sometime this morning?” Eddie teased as he stroked Richie faster. Richie whimpered faintly at the increased assault. “You’re really going to make me late now.”

“Well if you’d just fingered me like I asked-”

“-we’d be here all morning if you got me to finger you,” Eddie pointed out.

“Yeah, because you wouldn’t have been able to resist this ass,” Richie preened.

“Oh, shut the fuck up and come already,” Eddie sighed. Because Richie was right, and they both knew Richie was right, and the only way Eddie was getting out the door this morning was if he limited himself to jerking Richie off.

“Want to mess you up,” Richie growled, hand tightening on Eddie’s knee. Eddie smiled down at him.

“I bet you do.”

“Pull your dick out of your pants, get them all filthy with come…”

Eddie shifted, half a chub forming inside his boxer briefs. But he really didn’t have time, and if Richie would just come already, his dick would calm back down in short order. They weren’t seventeen anymore, after all. Eddie jerked his wrist faster, rolling the head in his palm with every stroke. Richie grabbed onto Eddie’s wrist, swearing. His hips tensed, humping up, ass hovering off the mattress as his toes curled.

“That’s it, Richie,” Eddie muttered, watching his face. “There you go. Come on, gorgeous.”

“Fuck, shut up,” Richie growled. Then he swore and grabbed for the tissues that Eddie had dropped onto his chest. “Fuck, fuck-”

“Yeah, Richie. Do it, come on-”

Richie slapped the tissues over his dick and came with a shout. Eddie stroked him through it, hand slowing its brutal pace and switching instead to long, firm tugs, pulling the come out of him from root to tip. Richie whimpered brokenly, reaching for Eddie’s hand and pulling it off his dick. Then he tugged it up to his mouth and lapped at it, making Eddie laugh.

“You’re not actually cleaning it,” Eddie pointed out, because he was going to go wash his hands.

Richie just moaned and licked some more at Eddie’s fingers. Eddie let him, because he loved him. Eddie smiled softly as he watched Richie’s expression, post-coital and sleepy in its softness, lips red and glistening, eyes closed with those thick eyelashes brushing his cheeks. His hair was messy with bedhead, his face was greasy with sleep. And Eddie loved every inch of it.

Eddie leaned down and kissed Richie one more time, slow and sloppy. Richie breathed heavily into the kiss, tonguing at Eddie’s mouth the most lovingly anyone had ever licked at someone else’s teeth. Eddie smiled into the kiss, pulling back just to drop a kiss to Richie’s nose. Richie didn’t even wrinkle up his nose—Eddie did that, whenever Richie tried to get cute. Richie, on the other hand, _loved_ sweet gestures like that, the sappier the better, and always accepted them whole heartedly, no complaints.

“Happy anniversary,” Eddie said before he stood up and took the wad of tissues with him to the bathroom. After he’d washed his hands thoroughly he stepped back into their bedroom, where Richie was flipping frantically through his phone.

“Eds, you’re cheating. I’ve got all our anniversaries in here and today isn’t one of them.”

Eddie smiled and rejoined Richie on the bed, even though he really had to go, even though he really was going to be late, now.

“Today, Richie Tozier, is the anniversary of the day I fell in love with you.”

Richie smiled dopily. “Really? What’d I do?”

Eddie played with the hair on Richie’s belly, scratching his fingers through the warmth that Richie’s body generated in his sleep. It was so tempting to crawl back into bed with Richie, to just take the day off. But as much as Eddie loved Richie, and enjoyed their weekends together, he figured it was made all the sweeter by the fact that he couldn’t just lounge around in bed all day with Richie, every day.

“We were, I don’t know, I think we were eight, or maybe nine. I ran into the basketball pole and split my lip?”

Richie snorted. “You were bleeding all over fucking everything. I thought Stan was going to faint.”

“And Bill was freaking out, trying to help, trying to reassure me, trying to take care of me.”

“I made him back off,” Richie remembered.

“I got up. On my own,” Eddie continued. “And I wiped the blood from my mouth.”

“I shoved you.”

“You gave me like half a noogie,” Eddie corrected.

“Same thing. Shoved your head.”

“And you remember what you said?”

“Something like ‘You’re fucking fine, Eddie.’ And then I hucked the basketball at you.”

“Basically,” Eddie agreed.

Richie’s eyes searched Eddie’s. “Why was that it?”

“Because you trusted me to be fine. To be strong. You took care of me by giving me the space to pick myself up and dust myself off.”

“I knew that’s what you wanted,” Richie admit. “Some kind of Eddie instinct. I had you pegged by then.”

“No, that didn’t happen until we were forty, you perv.”

Richie giggled, eyes bright and wondering as he gazed up at Eddie. Then he frowned.

“That’s bullshit, though. You didn’t fall in love with me then.”

Eddie frowned mightily. “What? Yes I did?”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did, what, I’m telling you I did!” Eddie whined.

“You didn’t know you were _gay_ until after Derry,” Richie pointed out. “Until after _I_ came out to you.”

“I didn’t say I _knew_ ,” Eddie protested. Because that had been his point, exactly, with the anniversary. He buried his fingers in Richie’s stomach hair and tugged lightly. “I just said I fell in love with you. I never said I _knew_ that I was in love with you.”

“Dude,” Richie protested.

“ _Dude_ ,” Eddie repeated back to him with a grin. Richie rolled his eyes, but he kissed back when Eddie leaned down to him.

Like Richie would ever not accept a kiss, when Eddie was offering.

“Now I really have to go,” Eddie said into Richie’s mouth. Gross morning breath and all.

“You’re already late,” Richie protested. One hand snuck up to wrap around Eddie’s waist, wrinkling his dress shirt. “What’s ten more minutes?”

“Just ten?” But Eddie was pulling away already, disentangling himself from Richie’s octopus arms. “Pick somewhere nice. For tonight.”

Richie groaned and stretched out like a middle-aged cat, bones cracking and breath shuddering. “Alright. But this means I owe you one, tonight.”

“I know,” Eddie agreed, picking up his phone from his nightstand.

“Which means you’re getting double,” Richie continued. Eddie smirked.

“Yeah, Richie: I know. And I fucking better.”

“Big talk,” Richie challenged.

“You too,” Eddie pointed out. And, because they could do this all fucking morning, Eddie forced himself to turn away and wave at Richie as he retreated from their bedroom.

“See you tonight.”

“Hate to see you leave love to watch you go, lover!”

“Fuck off, husband.”

“Fuck you!”

And then Eddie was giggling to himself as he left their apartment, trying not to let Richie hear, but of course Richie heard. But that was okay, because it was Richie’s mission in life to make Eddie laugh, and it was their anniversary today, after all.


End file.
